"Aye, aye, sir," returned the muffled voices from beneath the canvas.
I unshipped the rudder, letting it disappear noiselessly beneath the waves, and the boat's head swung slowly around, and we drifted helplessly, the jib flapping. With our eyes on the approaching vessel we remained motionless in the stern, our hands clasped. The flush had faded from out her cheeks, yet once she turned toward me and smiled. Forward not so much as the twitch of a muscle revealed any other presence in the boat, the only visible thing a jumble of ropes and canvas, apparently dragged hastily from the water by inexperienced hands. The waves tossed us about so that any seaman would recognize instantly our predicament. The manner in which the jaunty Sea Gull bore down upon us was proof that those on board had already grasped the situation, and had no remaining suspicion of treachery. She was under steam, with no sail set, and the rapidly increasing light gave me a fairly clear view. In low monotone, without turning my head, I managed to convey my observations to the motionless officer.
"She 's heading straight toward us under low pressure. There are two men on the bridge, and a lookout on the bow. Now she 's swinging to port to bring up close. There 's a group at the rail near the starboard gangway. About ten, I should say. Can you see, Viola?"
"Twelve," she answered quietly, "and three forward. The third man at the rail is the Captain, and he has a glass."
"By George! you are right. I recognize the fellow now. Broussard is on the bridge. They expect no trouble, Lieutenant, and only have the regular watch on deck. They are getting too close for me to talk any more."
It was indeed a beautiful picture had we only been in a mind to enable us to enjoy the scene. The deserted ocean, rolling gray and dismal under the cloudy sky, white caps showing in every direction as our boat was flung helplessly aloft on the steady roll of the sea. The coast line was not visible from our elevation, and nothing broke the gray round of horizon but clouds of floating vapor, slowly drifting away before the sun, which was already yielding a faint crimson glow to the east. Behind us, probably two miles distant, arose the rough ridge of Cosmos Island, while bearing down upon us from the north, with a westward sheer sufficient to expose her beautiful lines, came the Sea Gull. Yet graceful, handsome as she appeared, my entire attention centered on the group of men at her rail. They were watching us intently, Henley with a glass at his eyes. Twice I saw him turn, and wave his hand to Broussard on the bridge, slightly altering the vessel's course, and once the sound of his voice echoed faintly across the intervening water.
It was quite evident that as yet he perceived nothing to arouse suspicion, for, with a swing like a hawk, the Sea Gull bore down upon us, the engines slowing, and then reversed. We were staring up into the faces that looked curiously down at us. Henley gripped a stay and swung himself to the rail; farther aft the negro steward hung over, his mouth wide open, grinning at the spectacle.
"Hard down!" yelled the Captain, motioning with one arm. "Plug her, man. Now you damned army hound," he called to me, "catch that rope, and make fast."
One of the hands flung the coil so that it fell at my feet, and I did as directed, as otherwise we would have been crushed under the vessel. As it drew taut, the boat swung in gently against the side of the Sea Gull. Above us Henley hung, leaning far enough out so he could look down.
"Now, you damn thief," he screamed, "it's my turn to play jailer. Come up, both of you."